Thiefshipping: A Fallen Night
by Yami-Sajic
Summary: Marik Ishtar, a tomb keeper fleeing from his imprisonment in the underground ruins of Egypt, teams up with Yami Bakura, a reincarnated Thief King from ancient Egypt who wishes to attain the Millennium Items. But do the Millennium Items truly hold great power, or will they destroy everything? The darkness is increasing, and another shadow is rising in the midst of the night.
1. Chapter 1

"Marik?" Bakura asked, shattering the silence.

The Egyptian looked up from one of his scriptures, a little surprised. "What is it, Bakura?" He responded.

Bakura was about to open his mouth to say what was on his mind, but suddenly thought better of it and instead inquired the first thing that came to mind. "What are you reading?"

Something flashed across Marik's face, but only for a second, before he retained his previous expression. Bakura, though an excellent face reader, could not recognise it. "One of my old scriptures. It's about the rituals we tomb keepers have to perform," Marik explained. A moment passed before Marik realized his mistake and looked away, quickly.

_We tomb keepers have to perform,_ the words echoed in Bakura's mind. Marik still thought of himself as a tomb keeper, stuck in his own cruel childhood past.

The room began to fill with silence again, unspoken words hovering in the rays of moonlight peaking through one of the cracked windows. They were currently in one of Domino City Pier's old warehouses. The small yet spacious near-empty loft had a fishy smell lingering in the air, and the only inhabitants besides the two teenage boys were spiders, completing the corners with ghastly spider webs, and a baby rat Marik had named Binky. When Marik thought Bakura wasn't around, he would feed the rat crumbs and other bits of food, cooing things like "You're going to be a big strong rat, Binky boy," and "Don't tell my roommate that I'm giving you our leftovers, Bakura isn't merciful to anyone."

Bakura sighed, leaning forward to rest his chin on his arms, which were resting on the back of the straddled chair. The two aging wooden chairs that he and Marik occupied were one of the few furniture pieces in the entire warehouse.

Deep down, Marik was still a child, grasping for hope. He did not allow anybody to see him for what he really was— afraid. Marik did not even let himself he this. Bakura had to give him credit, though, as he was realistically cold on the surface. He could mind control many people out of their own fear and innocence, and turn them into menacing creatures, their hearts cloaked in luridness. When ordering his mind slaves to kill the Pharaoh, sometimes his violet eyes would appear entirely different. They shone with hunger, for vengeance, and he enjoyed watching the Pharaoh struggle as Marik spoke through his subjects, insisting that he would always win. But then the tomb keeper would lose, only to begin another plan.

"Is something wrong, Bakura?" Marik questioned, interrupting the albino's thoughts. Marik's book lay resting on his lap, held by his thin, tanned fingers. Bakura blinked, suddenly embarrassed, but swallowed it, not allowing any emotion to show on his face. He realized that he had been staring at Marik for the past few minutes.

The Egyptian's violet eyes gazed back at Bakura, a questioning look on Marik's features. Bakura hesitated, and then stated what he wanted to say since that morning. "Marik, are you afraid of yourself?"

A long moment passed, and the room once again became engulfed in awkward silence. The two boys held each other's eyes, unblinking, until Marik finally looked away. His face was complicated, and the dim light made it harder to tell if he was angry or confused. "I don't know what you are talking about," Marik eventually replied.

Bakura linked his fingers and stretched his arms above his head, a subtle gesture in preparation for what he was about to say next. Crossing his arms across the back of the chair, he leaned back a bit and said, "Marik, I read your journal. I am not sorry for it, nor am I going to tell you how much I read. I'm not here to sympathize, either. You mentioned in your writing that you have experienced memory lapses and bipolar moods in your childhood, and now hold possession of a Millennium Item, and I think we both know what that could mean."

Again, the warehouse filled with quiet, the only sound coming from the sea's waves nearby. Both of them held their breath, until Marik abruptly stood up, causing his chair to rattle against the frigid cement floor. Jerking his face around so that he could glare at Bakura straight on, the moonlight casting a silver hue upon his hair and face, he began to shout out erratic protests.

"Bakura, you idiot! You can't just sift through people's private stuff! And don't make foolish assumptions about me when you don't even know a _thing_ about my life! You're too obsessed with your own life to give a care about anybody else's, you egomaniacal jerk!"

Marik blew out an angry huff, and made his way across the floor, passing straight by the pale boy, still straddling his chair, without a single glance or another word. Bakura heard the rusty door slam, only to be creaked open by the wind. It didn't have a lock, let alone close properly.

Bakura sighed, once again, at the tomb keeper's bratty behaviour. But he didn't let it get to him. So instead, he rose off his chair. With nowhere else to go, he silently slid through the narrow slit of doorway, the ocean's cold breath breezing through the gap, and out into the fallen night.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as Marik made it outside into a misty breeze, the crescent moon looming overhead, illuminating the pale cement beneath Marik's leather shoes, he began to run. All he wanted to do was sprint until he was too tired and be forced to collapse on the ground and wake up in, say, a different country. One without Bakura, one without his sister Ishizu, and his adopted brother, Odion. He didn't want to be around the people who knew his secrets; he simply wanted to be left alone. Perhaps if he got on a boat now, he could make it back to Egypt where he belonged.

Marik abruptly halted, nearly crashing into his motorcycle. His mind flashed back to the day that he found the picture of the motorcycle, and clipped it out of a magazine. He and Ishizu had betrayed their father's wishes and ventured to the forbidden aboveground, the vast land outside of their dim underground prison. He had picked up a discarded magazine from the ground, and begged Ishizu to let him keep the picture of the foreign machine. Later, when they got back, Odion was missing and the two siblings found him being whipped to shreds by their father. Marik and Ishizu had stood, bewildered at the gashes and blood drawing from their dear brother's bare back. He fell to the floor into an unimaginable state of pain.

Next, Marik could only remember his head screaming, protesting in absolute agony, as it felt as though his mind was being ripped apart. When he regained consciousness, he was gripping the Millennium Rod in his hands, its end newly painted in a dark scarlet, which he shakily dropped. It hit the floor with a loud clang. Dropping to his knees, the young boy was immediately held inside the safety of Odion's arms and deeply bound wrists, attempting to keep Marik from looking at something unknown. But Marik did look, struggling against his adopted brother's constrained hold. His father was sitting upright against a wall, his head hung, covered in his own blood. His father was dead.

Marik blinked, the cool breeze bringing him back to reality. The Egyptian's hands were clenched by his sides, and gooseflesh had begun to appear on his arms, though it was not particularly cold outside. To his left, waves lapped against the docks, the water appearing an eerie black.

There were two moons tonight, Marik realized. One in the sky, so far up and out of reach, and one on the water's surface, though it was only a reflection. Why were things placed in front of us, teasingly, in plain sight and right there, waiting to be taken? But it was all just a game; everything we wanted was so far out of our grasps.

Marik closed his eyes for a brief moment, breathed in the Pier's salty scent, and opened them

In front of him stood his motorcycle— a prized possession, something that six years ago was so far out of reach. Something that Marik could only dream of, and yet, here he was now and the impossibility within his arm's length. Did everything worthwhile take time? Take patience, and suffering? Is that what life was all about?

Marik slid his leg over the seat and sat on the motorcycle. _With this_, Marik thought, _I could go anywhere_.

Fluently, the ex-tomb keeper shoved his helmet on, gripped the clutch and revved the engine until the ground beneath him went by in silver flashes and his hair was being whipped back by the wind's force.

_I want to forget_.

The words hovered in Marik's mind only long enough to be ripped out of his consciousness by the roaring wind that whipped past his face and body. The Egyptian's normally tanned knuckles were as pale as the star's iridescence, high above him. Screeching the motorcycle's wheels amidst a left turn, the tires left skids as black as charcoal on the tar behind him. The motion jerked him to the right, but Marik quickly recovered and braced himself as he pushed the bike into full throttle down an empty alley. The adrenaline and speed quickly evaporated any anger left lingering in Marik, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile.

_Too fast, too fast_! Some voice deep down kept screaming.

Suddenly something flashed in front of Marik's eyes, and his head seemed to split open in pain. His suddenly clammy fingers attempted to slow the motorcycle, but Marik accidentally panicked and forced it to an abrupt stop, causing his stomach to leap into his throat. The motion made him dizzy, and suddenly he felt like he was going to be sick. Raising his shaky hands, he gripped the sides of his head and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to shut the rest of the world out, too.

Despite the quiet alley, every noise felt like a scream in Marik's mind. The gentle breeze changed into a venomous howl, a rustling garbage bag transformed into a ferocious roar and, the loudest of all, Marik's heartbeat. The swift-paced throbbing of his heart pumped loud distress signals throughout the boy's body. Blood pounded in his ears, and he thought he could taste it in his mouth. Marik stifled a groan, and then had to bite back a scream. Again, the copper in his mouth bloomed until he felt the urge to gag. Moments later, the agony faded. Just like that.

Marik opened his eyes and realized that he had somehow gotten off the motorcycle, and was bracing on his arm against the stone wall of the alley. He had bitten his lip fairly hard, but it wasn't bleeding at all. Was the pain just an illusion, also? Marik's head was still rushed with vertigo, but other than that he felt fine.

The Egyptian cringed at the memory of Bakura's words, still lingering in the depths of his mind.

_Are you afraid of yourself?_

Was that another incident, just now? Was something— or somebody— trying to escape from Marik? He thought of Bakura, and how his host, Ryou, had to share a body with the ancient soul. While wearing the Millennium Ring, Bakura could take control of Ryou's body at his own will. Marik glanced down at the Millennium Rod tucked into his belt. Could there possibly be a soul in the sacred item? The Rod's golden eye stared back at Marik, seeming to chill his very soul.


	3. Chapter 3

Bakura did not have a vehicle. If he had to, he would just hitch a ride with Marik on his motorcycle, but tonight, the motorcycle was gone. Even if he did have a mode of transportation, the pale boy would still be too stubborn to chase after the tomb keeper. So, instead, Bakura sat on the edge of one of the Pier's docks and stared into the depthless water.

The nightfall was heavy on Bakura's spirit, and he had to resist the temptation of rest. If the spirit fell asleep, Ryou would immediately awake in the body and could maintain control of it for however long Bakura was out for. Bakura wanted to remain in control for as long as he could, for unnameable reasons. _Although_, he thought, _I could name one_. Bakura felt guilty, and he needed to apologize to Marik at the first sight of him. Or, at least that was what he wanted to do, deep down. Very, very deep down. In fact, so far deep down he imagined Ryou must be the one seeding these desires.

Bakura smirked, and his lurid reflection in the water mimicked his expression. Though the vessel was weak and predictable, without Ryou the spirit would not have a physical form. Bakura had begun to grow weary after impersonating his host so frequently, though he had to admit, with a smug grin, he was becoming a good actor. Yugi and his friends might have their suspicions, but they kept to themselves. So all in all, he could pretend to be Ryou without much worry.

Bakura suddenly realized he was gripping the Millennium Ring, hung around his neck, and that it was shimmering ever so slightly. Ryou was politely offering to take over, feeling that Bakura was fatigued, but truthfully the two alternate characters had almost no other ties or connections. Bakura knew lots about Ryou, though he only used this information to portray the right identity when among Ryou's friends. On the other hand, Ryou hardly knew the first thing about Bakura. Then again, Bakura was quite secretive with his personal life.

Bakura sent a firm message through his mind into Ryou's soul room, informing the boy that he would maintain control for a while longer. Ryou did not respond.  
Sighing, Bakura rose to his feet, and suddenly felt eyes boring into the back of his skull. The presence felt familiar. Bakura closed his eyes and smirked deviously, but when he spoke his voice mirrored Ryou's own. "You scared me, Yugi!" he cried innocently, turning around with a skittish step. It was then that Bakura realized it wasn't Yugi— it was his Yami alter ego.

The Pharaoh, apparently, was hidden inside of Yugi's Millennium Puzzle and the two switched between the shared body frequently. However, the Puzzle's spirit usually only showed himself during a duel, or when Yugi was frustrated or upset. And yet, here he was, standing before him with his arms confidently, if not smugly, crossed across his chest. A frown was spread across Yugi's face, and he stood silently across from Bakura on the dock.

"So, have you won any more Locator Cards?" Bakura attempted small talk in his Ryou voice. Yugi remained motionless, as well as speechless. "Is something wrong, Yugi?" Bakura forced a concern expression. He wanted the Millennium Puzzle, and here it was, bait, hanging right in front of him. Bakura swallowed the desire to rip it off the boy's neck, though he had to remind himself that he did not need it just yet.

"Bakura." The spirit's strong voice hung in the air.

"Yes?" Bakura automatically replied, wondering if he was supposed to.

Yugi shook his head. "Bakura. I want to speak to Bakura."

The Millennium Ring's spirit stood his ground, and went on with his act. "Yugi, it's me. I am the only Bakura, now," he added, knowing that Yugi knew about the Ring's spirit. Yugi also knew that his friend, Tristan, threw the Item away into a forest surrounding Pegasus's castle. Yugi pointed directly at the Millennium Ring, though it was nowhere to be seen by the naked eye. Bakura knew when to hide the Ring, and he had done so just before he had faced Yugi, of course.

"Your Millennium Item may not be visible, but it's still there," the Spirit pointed out in a knowing tone, "There's no need to pretend, I demand you show your true self."

Bakura chuckled, and then broke off into his sadistic snicker. The Millennium Ring suddenly appeared in a rush of glowing light, and lay gleaming in contrast to the pale stripes of Bakura's shirt. When he spoke, the imitation Ryou voice grew into the spirit's own voice with every word. "Yugi, I'll give you some credit for recognizing me. However, my appreciation ends here," he said, finishing with a menacing grin. "Now, tell me, _Pharaoh_," he the pronounced title with a mocking sneer, "What brings you here tonight?"

Yugi uncrossed his arms and met Bakura's piercing gaze with his own. Ignoring Bakura's question, Yugi countered with one of his own. "What is it that you want?"

Bakura gave a cruel laugh, and replied, "Secrets are better kept. Though I must say, Yugi, coming here with no defences is quite the act of a fool. Too bad neither of us has our Duel Disks at the moment, otherwise we could have settled this without complications."

Yugi's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Complications?"

Bakura let out an annoyed laugh, though he had wanted Yugi to respond in confusion. Bakura turned his attention downwards at his Millennium Ring, and it was then that Yugi must have realized it. But the Puzzle's Spirit did not look surprised, only because he had seen the Ring do it before.

"Which is it?" Yugi automatically asked.

He was wondering which of the Items the Millennium Ring had found. One of the cone-shaped needles was pointing away from the dock, towards the near-empty street that connected to the Pier's cement landscape. With a grimace, Bakura realized that he had been subconsciously wondering where Marik was, and that was why the Ring was reacting. The needle was leading him to Marik's Millennium Rod.

Bakura glanced at Yugi, who was now his normal self instead of his Yami possessor. Unlike what the Yami Spirit would have done, Yugi was sort of leaning in, inspecting the Ring from a short distance. Did the small boy not realize he could easily be hurt by Bakura? He was sure both Yami and Yugi thought low of him, probably even despised him for corrupting Ryou's body. Bakura snickered.

"What's so funny, Bakura?" Yugi demanded, though his voice faltered on the last word. He was clearly stuck on what to call him.

"You've seem to have taken an interest in my Millennium Item during our serious discussion. I did not realize you were so naive," Bakura mused. "What do you think would happen if I told you who the Ring was detecting? You think we would go on a little adventure to save the world?" Bakura smirked at Yugi's irritated reaction.

"Just hurry up and give Ryou back his body, you creep."

Bakura broke into a long laugh, and then settled his stone-cold gaze upon Yugi. "Move."

Yugi stood motionless, blocking Bakura's path. The Millennium Ring's active needle had begun to glow a little brighter, and Bakura could feel the Ring's increasing warmth through his clothing.

Bakura made a gesture with his arm. "Move," he repeated, firmer.

Yugi held out his arms when Bakura tried to pass around him, causing them both to become annoyed.

"If you won't let me speak with the real Bakura, then at least tell me who is being detected," Yugi paused for a moment, "Is it Marik?" He inquired, his face shifting slightly.

Marik went under the guise of Namu when around Yugi's friends, so they had no idea who Marik really was.

"Fool," Bakura scoffed. "Do not rely on me to assist you." Yugi glowered at Bakura, who simply laughed. Catching Yugi off guard, Bakura grabbed a fistful of the boy's shirt collar and leaned in, feeling Yugi's gasps coming out in tiny clouds on his face."Do not underestimate me," he said in his best Ryou voice, an innocent smile creeping across his pale face.

Suddenly a bright light flashed beneath Bakura's slightly outstretched arm, and Yugi's eyes changed; became fierce and hard. The Pharaoh.

The Spirit grabbed Bakura's wrist, weakening the grip around Yugi's collar, and yanked hard. Yugi held the albino's wrist away from them, so that their two arms were locked. Though it didn't show on his face, Bakura was surprised by Yugi's sudden strength. Bakura had slender arms, but Yugi had toothpicks, which could only mean the Pharaoh was using his own strength.

Just before Yugi's Yami shoved Bakura off balance and into the waves below the dock, he smirked and said, "Do not underestimate me."


	4. Chapter 4

"A black coffee, please," Marik mumbled, sliding the last of his pocket money across the counter. The cashier hastily counted the coins, slipped them into the register, and gave the blonde Egyptian a curt nod as he set the coffee cup in front of him. "Thanks."

Marik sipped the revolting black liquid as he headed out the door, entering the crisp nightfall. Coffee was not something he was accustomed to, yet, and it tasted horribly bitter, but it was highly caffeinated and that was all that mattered. He stood outside of the little coffee shop, staring out into Domino City's streets as dozens of cars zipped by. After several minutes, he went behind the building to retrieve his motorcycle, parked where he had left it last. Dumping the rest of his coffee, Marik got on his motorbike and ripped out of the alley and onto the street.

He had no idea where to go next, but he refused to head back to the hideout. Bakura was probably waiting for him, and as soon as he saw Marik with his tail between his legs scurrying back to him, he would laugh. Marik clenched his teeth. He wanted to kick Bakura right in the shins, possibly push him off a boat or two, and then make it his turn to laugh.

Suddenly Marik found himself laughing, a low, guttural laugh. His head then erupted in intense pain, and it felt like his mind was splitting itself in half. The street in front of his became a blur, and lights flickered before his eyes. Forcing himself to pull over and park his motorcycle, he slipped his leg over and nearly fell onto the cement sidewalk. He reached out for something to hold onto, and suddenly felt warm fingers wrap around his elbow, hulling him upright. Crouching on the sidewalk, Marik focused on the people staring down at him, concerned. Blinking twice, Marik's consciousness fully returned, though he felt somewhat nauseated. It was a boy and a girl.

The boy had a mixture of sharp and softness in his deep brown eyes, a mess of blonde hair and smug familiarity about him. The girl held a feeling of friendliness all over, mixed with determination. She had blue eyes, shoulder-length cropped brown hair with a layered fringe, and gave Marik a look filled with concern.

"Joey? T-Tea?" Marik struggled for their names, lost somewhere in his vast collection of memories. Many of his memories he wished he could simply bury and never have to face again.

"You don't look so well, Namu," Tea remarked.

The Egyptian immediately composed a face of sincerity, and spoke the same. "I'm just a bit dizzy, that's all." He gave a light laugh, and stood as Joey released his arm. Despite coming close to collapsing, Marik held his balanced stance and asked, "So, what brings you two here at this time of night?" Truthfully, he had no idea what time it was, though if he had to guess, he would say at least ten O'clock post-meridian.

"Actually, we're trying to find our buddy Yugi. His Grandpa said he left the house without a trace. Say, you haven't seen him, have ya?" Joey asked.

Before Marik could reply, Tea added, "Forgive Joey's manners, you probably don't even know what he looks like, do you?" Joey scowled at Tea for her unnecessary intrusiveness.

"I—Ah, sorry, I haven't seen him," Marik answered.

Tea and Joey exchanged a brief glance. "So, I guess we'll be on our way. Catch you later, Namu," Joey said.

Tea smiled and waved as they passed by, but Marik quickly called out, "Wait!"

The two turned around, puzzled. "Eh? What is it?" Joey asked.

Marik hoped they couldn't see his Millennium Rod, tucked in his belt around the back of his black cargos. "Why don't I help you find Yugi? I have a motorbike, so I can span out much quicker," he suggested. Marik noticed the two exchange another look, one of a silent decision.

After a brief moment, they both nodded and smiled at the tomb keeper. "That'd be great, Namu!"

As they turned away, Marik smirked. "Indeed," he murmured, low under his breath so they couldn't hear him. Ignoring the dull throb lingering in his head, Marik mounted his motorcycle and sped off in the opposite direction of Joey and Tea. Marik felt the Millennium Rod against his lower back, cold against his skin. Grinning mischievously, he turned off onto another street, an unknown instinct pulling the Egyptian towards his destination.

Before he knew it, he was coming short of the Domino Pier. Frowning, he pulled off his helmet, slid off the bike and warily searched the surrounding area. The saltiness wafting in the air caused Marik to sigh, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent. _Is anyone even here_? He wondered. _Why would Yugi be at the Pier, anyways? _

Something rattled nearby, and Marik immediately grabbed his Millennium Rod, clutching it defensively. He desperately hoped he wouldn't have to unsheathe the hidden blade, it brought back horrid memories. One of them he couldn't even remember at all, though it gnawed at the back of his mind.

Another strange noise, then a small brown fur ball dashed across to another building.

It was the rat, Binky.

Marik relaxed, slipping the Rod back into his belt. Shaking off his paranoia, Marik made his way towards the docks. He thought he could hear something, distant and quiet, but over the sound of the waves and blood pounding in his ears, it was hard to decipher.

Marik's steps had gotten heavier, and every few paces he would falter, almost collapsing. "Ugh," he growled, his head pounding in protest. Straining to stay upright, the earth seemed to tip and sway, as if he were balancing on the waves nearby. Marik clutched the side of his head with one hand, and after a few increasingly agonizing moments, added another. Squeezing his eyes shut, the copper taste filled his mouth again, except this time he believed it was real blood. Nausea twisted his stomach into knots, forcing him to cry out softly. He gritted his teeth as a rush of anger protruded through his mind. Then something like pleasure, and he felt a laugh tingle inside of him, so deep down he was sure he was already unconscious.

Then something snapped in his mind, causing it to split.

Distantly, he heard himself shriek. The scream echoed, full of agony and intensity. He felt himself being pulled under, as if he were drowning in the waters close by. Something powerful, full of energy, sank him even deeper until he hit the bottom. On the surface of Marik's body, the boy's eyes opened and he broke into a victorious, maniacal laughter.

Marik had been usurped by an unfathomable darkness, and as a useless spirit lost in his own body, he could do nothing but hold onto whatever he had left.


	5. Chapter 5

Bakura fell breathless into the Pier's depthless waters. It was silent for only a moment before he heard the crash of waves engulf him, and then water rushed into his mouth all at once. Swallowing vast amounts of the salty liquid, Bakura's lungs began to burn as he tried to reach up for surface. Beneath the dock, the waters were as lurid as the sky, so high up and a seemingly endless reflection. It was also frigid, the cold of the water biting him to his core.

Finally, Bakura found the surface and began to breathe in little gasps of air. He glared at where he thought Yugi would be, but the boy was already gone. Frowning, his thoughts automatically planned payback. But for some reason he did not feel like vengeance, instead he almost laughed. The Pharaoh had guts, for sure. Perhaps Bakura would reward him next time they crossed paths.

The drenched boy hulled himself up onto the dock, shivering slightly. Though it was not cold, the water seemed to chill even his bones. The night was oddly silent, and Bakura stood staring the moon for a few moments before he felt yet another presence. _Is Yugi back already_? He briefly wondered.

Contorting his face into a mischievous smirk, Bakura turned around to face the guest. Before him stood the person Bakura had least expected, nearly forgotten. Eyes widening for a fraction of a second, the pale boy immediately frowned and closed his eyes to cover up his surprise. "Welcome back, Marik," Bakura sneered. Marik could have just apologized for his ridiculous behaviour and everything could go back to normal, but, of course, Bakura knew this was impossible for the tomb keeper. The Ring's spirit opened one eye, peeking at the silent Marik.

The Egyptian seemed to glow in the faint surrounding mist while he clutched the Millennium Rod in his left hand. Bakura opened both eyes. Marik seemed to be frowning, too, though eventually the corners of his mouth broadened into a devious smirk. His usually sharp lavender eyes seemed absent of emotion, and they stared directly into the depths Bakura's own brown irises. The Millennium Ring suddenly felt like a weight, pulling down on Bakura as he noticed Marik was using the power of his Millennium Rod to still him. The Ring was attempting to break the hold, but Bakura allowed Marik's sceptre to restrain him.

Bakura felt uneasy, trapped motionless, but he fought the urge to hold his breath as Marik took several steps toward him so that they were no more than a yard apart. The Millennium Rod's illumination radiated hauntingly, held in the grip of a white-knuckled tan hand. Bakura stared at Marik, puzzled. Normally, he would fight back, but tonight Bakura noticed something different about Marik.

Was it the way he moved? He looked almost dangerous. Perhaps it was the way he tilted his head forward and gazed with trancelike eyes. And then there was the grin— one that reminded Bakura of a wolf before prey.

"You are trembling, Bakura."

Bakura jumped at the sound of Marik's voice. His eerily calm tone was unrecognisable. Bakura remained mute as Marik inspected his damp clothes. "I fell," Bakura said curtly, answering the unspoken question. "Off the dock."

"Ah," Marik responded. "I see." The Egyptian abruptly stepped forward and grabbed a fistful of Bakura's white hair, yanking his head back so he had to look down past his nose in order to see Marik.

Bakura clenched his teeth together, resisting the urge to hit the tomb keeper. He couldn't break the hold now, anyways.

"Does it hurt?" Marik's voice came out questionably strange.

Bakura was confused—_Does what hurt_?

The realization of Marik's question hit him hard, specifically in his arm. Bakura flinched, but did not cry out. _What is he doing to me? _Bakura strained to know. _There's no way this person is Marik.  
_Bakura's arm felt warm with blood, a searing pain that made him shiver, remembering the day where he had stabbed his own arm with a knife.

It had been the day he and Marik had first encountered, when they had formed an alliance. Bakura was to kill the Pharaoh in trade for Marik's Millennium Rod. That was the deal, and their first plan involved Bakura willingly stabbed himself with his switchblade, laughing during the process, and reverting to Ryou for the rest of the day. He had to spend a good portion of his time in a hospital though, with Marik sneaking into Bakura's mind, reminding each other of the deal.

Marik laughed, licking the end of a blade, the tip coated a deep scarlet. It was the blade of the Millennium Rod, unsheathed. Marik had never revealed the Rod's hidden weapon.

"Bittersweet," Marik murmured.

It took Bakura a moment to realize Marik was referring to his blood. The pale boy grimaced in disgust, though in truth he had done the same with his knife just days ago, in the process of Marik's plan.

Still fisting the albino's hair, the blonde Egyptian leaned in close enough that Bakura could feel his oddly sweet breath on his face. "This isn't like you, Bakura."

Before Marik could elaborate, Bakura cut in and spat, "I could say the same for you, Marik."

A moment passed, and then Marik let go of Bakura and stepped back, snickering. The tomb keeper's quiet laugh erupted into a maniacal one, and he tipped his head back to face the night sky. Bakura stood his ground, ignoring the persistent throb of his arm, and watched as Marik eventually calmed down.

"Who are you?" Bakura demanded.

Marik's gaze averted down at the Millennium Rod, still held in his left hand at his side, before his eyes finally flickered up at Bakura. "I am Marik."

Bakura frowned, intensifying his glare. "I want the truth."

Marik grinned. "The boy who has been following you around like a puppy is just a shadow of me. I'm the true heart of this body. I am the real Marik.

Bakura waited for a loud gust of wind to die down before he replied, "You are only a creation of Marik's hatred, pain and despair."

The Egyptian laughed at Bakura's words. "You think you know so much, Bakura," Marik retorted, "But you do not know me."

Bakura narrowed his eyes as Marik turned away slightly, staring at his sceptre. The tomb keeper's following words made Bakura shudder, a chill creeping up his spine.

"I love the dark. Marik is afraid of it, you see. Hatred... blood and vengeance... darkness. I like it all. It is what I am."

Bakura couldn't help but glance down at his arm, the wound not as bad as he thought. There was still a trail of blood from the gash down to his fingertips, though, where it had made a tiny pool of lurid crimson on the ground.

Looking back up, he found Marik's face slightly distorted. Bakura blinked. It wasn't a trick of light; Marik's face had an echo to it. Suddenly it disappeared, and it left only the new unfamiliar face of Marik.

"Are you afraid of the dark, Bakura?" Marik asked, holding his illuminated Millennium Rod out.

Bakura smiled at Marik's invitation. Clutching his Millennium Ring, Bakura felt it heat up beneath his cool fingers. As the waves crashed below the two Yami possessed boys, Bakura grinned and said, "I _am_ the dark."


	6. Chapter 6

Yugi doubled over, gasping in air. After gaining control of his body, he had sprinted away from the dock as fast as his legs could take him, and out onto the street. Narrowly avoiding being hit by a car or two, he had eventually made it onto the sidewalk and even farther down from there. Blinking at the dozens of headlights flashing by, Yugi replayed the previous event in his head.

The Millennium Puzzle's Spirit had immediately taken over just as Yugi was about to be shoved into the water below him. Yugi vaguely recalled the shock on Bakura's face as he tumbled downwards. He assumed the Ring's spirit was one to hold a grudge.

His heart was still pounding, brisk as a hummingbird's wings. "I hope Bakura is alright," Yugi murmured.

He felt the Spirit's presence, a transparent clone of Yugi appearing beside himself. Resting a hand on Yugi's shoulder, Yami gave a tiny nod. "_I know that Bakura is our friend, but when he is no longer the host of his own body_..." The Pharaoh hesitated, which rarely happened. "_Something must be done. The Millennium Ring and the spirit contained in it hold vast amounts of mysterious powers. Bakura's dark half will not be easy to rid of_."

Yugi stared at the ground, frowning. Lifting his gaze to his own other self, he said, "We still have to deal with Marik. Who knows what he's up to now." The Pharaoh said nothing, just stared out into the dark for a moment, before vanishing. Yugi sighed. _I guess I better go home..._

"Yugi!" A familiar voice called out. Yugi turned around and saw two of his friends, Joey and Tea, racing towards him. Before he could say anything, Joey practically crushed his lungs and messed up Yugi's spiked hair by way of greeting. "Man, Yugi, we've been searching all over for you!"

Yugi smiled, thankful that his friends were always close by.

"Where were you?" Tea asked. Yugi must have made a face, because immediately the three stood silent, an awkward silence filling the air.

Staring at the sidewalk, Yugi mumbled, "I was at the Pier."

Joey made a gesture indicating he couldn't hear him. "Eh? What?"

Yugi fidgeted before repeating his previous words. Tea raised her eyebrow. "Huh? What were you doing there at this time of night?"

Yugi focused on the cracks in the sidewalk as Joey stepped forward and knocked on Yugi's forehead. "Hey, you in there, buddy? We asked you a question," Joey softened his words with a lopsided grin.

"I—I saw Bakura," Yugi sputtered.

The three teenagers remained mute, until Tea broke the silence. "Bakura? Is he there now? What happened?"

Yugi shifted his feet. _Why am I acting so nervous? _"We had a bit of a run-in. I mean, not with Bakura, but the spirit of the Millennium Ring."

Joey frowned. "But Tristan threw that thing away back in Duellist Kingdom." Tea nodded in agreement.

"Well, it's back now," Yugi said. Joey cursed under his breath.

"So what did you two fight about?" Tea asked.

Joey threw a sharp glance at Yugi, ignored Tea's question, and asked, "Is he still at the Pier?" Yugi shrugged. "Well, come on! Let's go check it out. I'm not letting that jerk mess with my friends!" Joey said.

Yugi reached out for Joey's sleeve, but the blonde boy was too quick in his descent down the street. "Wait, Joey!" Yugi called out. Suddenly he felt someone grab his arm, and realized it was Tea, who had already begun to practically drag him after Joey. Yugi tried to run faster without drawing attention, but it was difficult to also keep up with Tea's strides.

"Are you alright?" Tea asked.

Yugi nodded. He hoped Bakura was okay, too. What if he had been knocked unconscious in the water? Yugi shuddered at the thought.

"Joey?" Tea called out, once the two had arrived at the Domino Pier. Joey waved at them from a short distance away, cloaked in the night shadows behind a warehouse. Joey motioned them to be quiet while they approached, causing Yugi to become curious.

"What is it, Joey?" Yugi asked.

The crouched blonde glanced up, and then peered around the corner of the warehouse. "I think I see somebody over at the docks," he responded. Yugi and Tea checked for themselves, though it took a few moments to find the hazy shadow of a person.

"There's another person, too!" Tea exclaimed.

True enough; a short distance from the first figure was another silhouette. Yugi was about to suggest leaving, but Joey had already begun to creep forward to the next warehouse. He wasn't sure who he wanted the people to be, but either way he felt his stomach tighten at the thought of encountering them. Could it be Rare Hunters? Quite possibly.

Several moments later, they had manoeuvred their way around until they got close enough that they could see the figures in better detail. Standing closest to them was a boy Yugi's age, with past-shoulder length spiked up pale blonde hair that shone like silver in the moonlight and tanned skin elaborated with foreign armlets. Wearing black cargo pants and a lavender cut-off hoodie, he was unrecognizable, especially with his back facing them, but Joey and Tea seemed to know him.

"Is that... Namu?" Tea asked.

Joey shook his head. "No way, that can't be him."

Yugi reminded himself to ask his friends about this Namu person later. Right now, his attention was focused on the other figure. Pale skin, silver hair, brown eyes— holding the Millennium Ring in both hands— no doubt it was Bakura. Yugi felt his breath release in something between relief and dread.

"What are they doing?" Joey questioned.

"It almost looks like... a Shadow Game," Tea replied.

Yugi inspected the two boys, standing a few yards apart from each other on the closest dock. A hazy shadow was looming around their feet, casting an aurora of darkness in the surroundings. _Yugi, I think Tea's right. _Yugi silently agreed with the Puzzle's Spirit.

Suddenly the unknown boy laughed, causing Yugi to jump. It was the laughter of an insane man, one who took pleasure in his kills. Yugi's eyes widened as he realized what the boy was holding— a Millennium Item. Joey and Tea seemed to have realized it, too, as they casted a glance at Yugi's Puzzle.

_They seem to be fighting with their Millennium Items. _

Yugi inwardly nodded. He did not feel very well, being so near a Shadow Game. The last time he had been in one, he'd fainted from the dark energies. Joey looked uneasy, though he was trying not to show it, and Tea had been holding her breath for a while now.

All of a sudden a shriek pierced Yugi's ear, followed by Tea slapping a hand to her mouth. A rat scurried by, the cause of Tea's alarm. She immediately sighed with relief, and sent the two boys an apologizing look. But her yelp had not gone unheard, as the other two boys standing on the dock turned in their direction. Joey swore as he tried to hide against the building, but it was no use as the other two had already seen them. Tea was leaning forward with narrowed eyes.

"What's wrong, Tea?" Yugi asked as the boys on the dock seemed to converse. His nerves were telling him to run.

"I can't figure out who the other guy is," she replied, "The one with the other Millennium Item."

Yugi gently pulled her wrist, urging her to hide. Tea eventually succumbed, though not without a last glance towards the dock. Joey checked his watch, eyeing Bakura and the other boy from a distance. "We can't just stand here, guys. They've already seen us," he said.

Yugi replied, "Well, we can't run away." Tea nodded in agreement.

"Fine. If they try to run themselves, we chase after them. However, if they come after us, then we're mouse," Joey said.

"Which is worse in this situation— cat or mouse? Either way, we could be in danger. You two better be careful," Tea said, reaching her hand out in the center of them. Yugi immediately placed his hand in, and Joey completed the little friendship circle.

But instead of saying something inspirational, Joey blurted out, "But they have Millennium Items, and as far as I know, they're dangerous weapons."

Yugi could tell Joey was recalling the time where he and Tea had gotten kidnapped and brainwashed by Marik. All three of them were placed in a life or death situation that day. Yugi took his hand back as the circle dissembled. _I will never forgive you, Marik, _Yugi silently vowed. He clenched his hands by his sides, aware that they were trembling. Not only from anger, but from being terrified of the future, the present, and the past.

Yugi peered around the corner and examined the docks. He heard Tea and Joey step up to his heels to look, too. Still there, the two Millennium Item possessors were having a scene. Bakura was a little hard to see in the midst of the Pier's haze, but the other one had collapsed on the ground, sitting with his legs bent on either side and hands clutching his lowered head. His face was still hidden from Yugi's view. Yugi's eyes widened as he watched, with bewilderment, as Bakura crouched down, picked up the sceptre-like Millennium Item, unsheathed its hidden blade and grabbed a fistful of the boy's shirt.

Yugi, Tea and Joey gasped in unison as Bakura leaned in and thrust the blade into the boy's chest, emitting an agonizing shriek into the night. Joey hastily retreated back into the shadows, leaning against the warehouse, shocked. Tea had a hand pressed against her mouth while Yugi stared, eyes wide, at the limp body held up only by Bakura's grasp. _Is he alive? _Yugi wondered with horror.

A moment later, Bakura shoved the boy onto the cement and stood, the golden sceptre still clutched in his hand. Turning his sharp gaze to Yugi, he felt his blood turn to ice.

Tea hurriedly pulled Yugi back behind the warehouse, where Joey was waiting. His eyes told him that he had a plan. Yugi and Tea waited for his next words.

"Tonight, we chase."

Yugi swallowed, a pit of fear knotting his stomach. Hesitantly, he allowed his Yami to temporarily take over, giving Yugi some time to build up his courage and determination.

Bakura's laughter shattered the night, a grim reminder that they weren't alone.


	7. Chapter 7

Bakura seized all movement when he heard a little scream. It was a girl's yelp, from a distance away. The shadow looming at his feet settled, though an ominous aura still hung heavy in the air. Across from him on the dock, Marik appeared ready for another Shadow Game, grinning like a mischievous wolf. Bakura turned his body slightly towards the scattered warehouses, alert and waiting for a presence to appear. Then he caught sight of people, three of them, huddled around the corner of one of the buildings. He knew Marik must have seen them, too, but wondered if he recognised them in his possessed form. Bakura certainly could. It was Yugi, and his friends Joey and Tea. Bakura scowled. _Such nuisances. _

The three teenagers quickly scurried around the warehouse to hide. Bakura nearly laughed at their cowardice, but it was Marik who snickered first. Bakura faced him, and realized it wasn't a laugh he had heard, but a pained hissing sound through Marik's teeth. He had a hand clutched to his face, appearing ready to tear it off. Once again, the Egyptian had that strange echo to his face, a distorted stretch that seemed to belong to something otherworldly. Bakura was tempted to step forward, but he held his stance. Across from him, Marik made little pained noises deep in his throat. He had his eyes squeezed shut and now both hands had moved to clutch a handful of his blonde fringe. Bakura waited, unsure of what to do.

All of a sudden, Marik stiffened and remained rigid for a few moments. His eyes flew open and he stared at Bakura with violet, arcane eyes. His agonized snarl contorted into a devious, lopsided grin. Despite the pained position Marik was in, he spoke with an eerie calmness, as he had moments before. "I anticipate our next encounter, Bakura."

Bakura's scornful glare shifted into a look of sheer interest. "I can't wait, that is, unless Marik suppresses you deep enough that you will writhe in your own grave soil."

Marik laughed. "That guy, he is hopeless. Fate has already scarred him down to nothing. Ah, yes, how his heart has become so brittle." The tomb keeper laughed at his own words, eyes becoming more distant by the second.

Suddenly, Marik collapsed to the ground on his knees, the Millennium Rod clinging on the dock as it slipped out of his fingers. Bakura hesitated before taking a step. A few more paces and he was standing directly in front of Marik, staring down at the boy. Bakura crouched down so that he was eyelevel with him as he picked up the fallen Millennium Rod.

Marik still had his eyes closed, and he had already dropped his limp arms to his sides. Bakura felt Yugi and his friends watching, so he continued with his plan. Grabbing a fistful of Marik's shirt collar, the white-haired boy yanked the Egyptian closer, while leaning in himself. Marik's eyes slowly fluttered open, though they seemed void. Abruptly, Marik's violet eyes widened and he opened his mouth only to have Bakura interrupt him.

"Scream when I tell you to scream, got it?" Bakura whispered harshly, wanting his demand to process clearly in Marik's head. The tomb keeper hesitated, and then gave the tiniest of nods. Bakura felt Marik's bewildered, and angered, stare fall on the unsheathed Millennium Rod, held possessively in his hand. Bakura silently promised to explain later, and he involuntarily felt his breathing seize as he pulled the sceptre back a little, in plain sight for Yugi and his friends.

"Scream."

Bakura wasted no time thrusting the blade in the direction of Marik's torso, but only to stop short of the golden chains hung on the Egyptian's top. Marik played his part perfectly, screaming at the exact moment. His shriek was filled with pain and horror, and though it wasn't too loud, more like an emphasized mix of grunt and gasp, it echoed throughout the Pier.

Bakura stole a quick glance at the trio, again huddling around a warehouse's corner. This time, though, their faces looked stricken. Horrified. Bakura bit back a smug grin as he shoved Marik onto the ground. Again, Bakura was impressed with the blonde boy as he lay still without appearing rigid.

The three had escaped from Bakura's sight, and he knew now was the time to get away. Grabbing Marik's arm, he hulled the Egyptian up from the ground. Marik gave Bakura a mixed look, but then his eyes immediately hardened and he nodded. Bakura grinned, receiving a little smile back from Marik. Glancing back at the warehouses, Yugi, Joey, and Tea were still hidden.

Bakura gave a wild laugh, allowing the moon to soak up his pretend pleasure. His voice echoed out into the night, and he knew that it had not gone unheard to anyone on the Pier.

A few moments into their descent down the cement pathway, Bakura noticed Marik was straining to run. Bakura couldn't blame him; after all, he had just been possessed and entered in a Shadow Game. Bakura also knew he couldn't do anything about it, though.

They eventually made it to where Marik had parked his motorcycle, near the Pier's gate, and halted.

"Can you drive?" Bakura asked, wondering about Marik's mental state. He looked ready to pass out on the ground right there and then. Marik nodded.

After Marik got on, Bakura hesitated before sliding on behind him. When Bakura just sat there awkwardly as the engine idled, Marik stammered, "H-hang on. To me."

Though his face was turned ahead, Bakura could see that Marik was blushing a bit. Bakura suddenly felt his own face get warm; though he was grateful Marik could not see him. Shifting forward so he was barely apart from the Egyptian, Bakura wrapped his arms around the boy's small waist. Beneath his arms, he could feel soft, bare skin, hardened by toned muscles.

_This is going to be a long ride_, Bakura silently muttered in his head. All of a sudden, Marik revved the motorcycle and Bakura reflexively held on tighter. Aware that he was pressed up against Marik's back, Bakura's face reddened again. _There is nothing wrong with this, people do it all the time, _Bakura convinced himself. If Bakura was blushing, Marik was going to spontaneously combust soon. The pale boy chuckled at the thought of Marik bursting into flames.

"What's funny?" Marik asked over the roar of the engine and wind as they whipped past other vehicles.

"Nothing, just being me being my sadistic self," Bakura replied nonchalantly. Bakura imagined Marik was probably rolling his eyes. Marik swerved right at an intersection, leading them away from the Pier. "Where are we going?" Bakura asked.

When Marik didn't reply, Bakura leaned forward and attempted to ask again, but abruptly stilled when he realized something was wrong with Marik. He almost seemed to be trembling, and his knuckles were white in contrast to his suddenly hot skin. He was also slightly perspiring, and seemed to be in pain.

"Slow down, Marik," Bakura warned. They were going so fast that the street beneath them went by in one long silver streak. Marik showed no signs that he heard Bakura.

Leaning forward even more, Bakura reached out and placed his hands on top of Marik's on the handlebars. _Which one is the brake? _Marik had his hand clutched around the left lever, so Bakura assumed the right one was the brake. He strained his hand a little more and pulled back on the right lever, causing the tires to screech and swerve, but eventually the motorbike came to an abrupt halt.

Bakura lost his grip and fell sideways off the motorcycle. Shaking his head, he climbed to his feet and found Marik walking across the sidewalk and into an alley. Again, he was straining control and had his hands clutched to his head.

Bakura caught up to the Egyptian and grabbed his arm. "Fight him," Bakura growled.

Marik shook his head, eyes squeezed shut. "I-I can't!" He cried through clenched teeth. "Bakura—!"Marik's words got cut off by his scream.

Bakura watched as the tomb keeper struggled over control. Suddenly Marik went rigid, and the air around the two filled with silence. Lifting his head, the new Marik's eyes flew open.

They were filled with hunger.

Marik grabbed Bakura's hand from his arm and pinned it behind his back. Leaning in close enough that he could feel the boy's ghastly breath against his ear, Marik whispered, "The darkness is demanding a sacrifice."

Bakura scowled, and, drawing back his other arm, he slammed his fist into Marik's stomach.  
The Egyptian backed off, but when he lifted his eyes to Bakura's, Marik grinned. It was then Bakura realized what happened.

Marik held out the Millennium Rod, grasped in his hand. He had taken it from Bakura without him noticing. The Ring's spirit felt the sceptre's spell fall upon him, but when he attempted to break it with the Millennium Ring, nothing happened. New blood began to trail down his arm from his wound, and Bakura realized he didn't have enough energy and power then to surpass Marik. Bakura couldn't move under the Millennium Ring's force, so he instead glared. Marik laughed and stepped forward, taking hold of Bakura's jaw and jerking his face upwards. Bakura clenched his teeth and waited for the stabbing pain.

He heard it before feeling it, a sickening sound that made Bakura flinch against his will. Then he really felt the infliction, deep in his abdomen. Marik had stabbed him in his stomach.

"That is for punching me," Marik said, "And this is for stealing my Millennium Rod." The tomb keeper didn't use the sceptre's blade this time, but instead grabbed a handful of Bakura's silver hair and shoved hard. The pale boy was sent a few steps backwards into the end of the alley, a wall catching his back before he fell.

The Millennium Rod's hold had broken, but Bakura was trapped. He grimaced, wiping a small trail of blood that had escaped from his mouth. Stealing a glance downwards, Bakura caught sight of his wound. There was a splotch of blood soaked into his shirt. Looking back up, Bakura met the eyes of Marik's dark counterpart. The Egyptian smirked, taking in Bakura's expression.

"Don't give me that look, Bakura. You and I are alike. We have both wounded our hosts for the greater of evil," Marik said.

Bakura resisted the urge to strangle Marik, and instead scoffed, "Perhaps, but you will not be forgiven."

Marik laughed. "You seem to be intimidated. I like my victims terrified of the pain and suffering they've endured. _It feeds the darkness_," He broke into a maniacal cackle after speaking.

Once again, Marik had an echo to his face, a transparent figure of stretched expressions. When he calmed down, Marik's eyes seemed to penetrate Bakura's mind, the icy lavender piercing his thoughts. Bakura involuntarily held his breath as he waited for the sadist's next move.

Then, it all happened so fast and yet tantalizingly slow. Marik brought his mouth down on Bakura's, making the pale boy jump. He could feel the Egyptian form a devious smirk against his lips. Sliding his tongue in, Marik deepened the kiss by clutching a handful of Bakura's hair, preventing the boy from moving. Marik positioned his knee between Bakura's legs, closing the gap between the two boys. Bakura felt their tongues meet, and a wave of anger and humiliation shattered his bewilderment. Bakura tried to push Marik away, but it was near impossible with the tomb keeper's death grip.

Bakura thought of something, then, and bit down on Marik's tongue as hard as he could. Blood seeped in his mouth and Marik pulled back, giving Bakura a hard scowl, though amusement danced in his eyes.

Bakura breathed in little pants, the heat from his face slowly diminishing. _I'm going to kill him! _Bakura screamed in his head. The Ring's spirit hated showing too much or being controlled, and yet here he was in both situations.

Marik placed his hand on Bakura's chest, over the boy's heart. When Bakura tried to rip it off, he found he couldn't move. The Millennium Rod was holding him down, once again. Marik didn't need to say it— Bakura's heart was beating very fast. The tomb keeper took pleasure in this, as he flashed his teeth in a triumphant smirk.

Taking Bakura by surprise, Marik drove his knuckles into Bakura's stomach wound, causing Bakura to gasp and double over. Averting his eyes from the ground and up to meet the tomb keeper's, Bakura noticed Marik was straining over control again. His face was locked into a forced expression, and his face had another echo to it. But in his final remaining moments, Marik's dark counterpart grabbed the top of Bakura's head and slammed it into the wall. Bakura slumped down to meet the ground, the pain overwhelming him. His vision danced and swirled, his head pounding along with the blood roaring in his ears.

Bakura forced himself to stay conscious, but when Marik collapsed into his lap, he could only feel it.


	8. Chapter 8

Marik heard a heartbeat, so distant and yet near. His mind wavered, and consciousness approached him. His body regained feeling, and a dull rush of vertigo swirled in his head. Marik was unsure if the heartbeat was his own, but he could still hear it, and even feel it. Afraid to open his eyes, he felt something against him. Beneath his legs, he could feel substance. Then, all at once, Marik's memories flooded back and his eyes flew open.

Beneath the tomb keeper's cheek, Bakura's heart thumped. Marik's fingers were clutched around Bakura's sleeve and arm, his nails digging in deep. He released some of the pressure, afraid to move too much.

Blood rushed to Marik's face as he realized he was sitting in Bakura's lap. Bakura had his legs slightly drawn up, his arms slack, and Marik was collapsed between them. Carefully moving his head back from the pale boy's chest, he stared at Bakura. The boy looked so much different now, unconscious, than he did awake. Bakura appeared pained, but he also looked serene in a way that Marik could not explain. The smug bitterness that his face always held was replaced with an unfathomable grace. So many hidden emotions were displayed on his features, and yet the boy had no idea.

Marik averted his eyes, embarrassed suddenly, but quickly looked down when he felt something sticky and wet on his midriff. Blood seeped from Bakura's wound, a vicious stab through his stomach. The image caused Marik to cringe, though if it were anybody else he might have remained unfazed. Then the realization hit him— _I did this, _he thought. Marik drew back, horrified.

Pressing his trembling fingers to his mouth, he vaguely recalled the taste. Sure enough, he could faintly remember the kiss.

His other half, whatever it was, had been toying with both Marik and Bakura. The Egyptian could not begin to imagine what would happen if Bakura were to wake then.

Catching a glimpse of the Millennium Rod discarded on the ground, Marik quickly ignored it and scrambled to his feet. Standing between Bakura's legs, Marik stared down at the pale boy. He felt guilt well in his heart, unable to overcome it. _I did this. _Regretfully, he turned away, but did not move. Could not move. The Egyptian's eyes darted to the white hand grasped onto his wrist.

"Leaving so soon?" A voice whispered. Bakura raised his eyes, then, and stared back into Marik's. A long moment passed and Bakura's fingers remained curled around Marik's wrist. Unsure of what to say, Marik reached down and pulled Bakura to his feet. The pale boy took his hand away and pressed it against his wound. Marik wanted to apologize, but he wasn't sure how to.

Bakura must have felt this, because he frowned and said, "It's not your fault."

Marik averted his eyes, turning away slightly. His tongue was stinging really bad. "Maybe we should break the alliance," Marik blurted out. "I mean, it's only going to get worse, right?"

Bakura stared and said nothing for a while. Then, smiling gently, he stepped forward and swung his fist into Marik's cheekbone. The tomb keeper stumbled backwards a couple of steps, holding his cheek. Marik laughed quietly. "I guess I deserved that, didn't I?"

Bakura stepped forward until he was inches away from the tomb keeper. Marik held his breath, waiting. He felt something press into his hand, and curled his fingers around the gift. Holding it up, it was the Millennium Rod. Bakura took his hand back and stepped back. Marik always wondered why Bakura never just stole the sceptre and fled. Perhaps Bakura trusted Marik to hold up his end of the deal and played fair.

Marik tucked the Rod into the back of his belt and gave a light smile. "Listen, Bakur—," Marik began.

"Bakura!" Somebody called out, interrupting.

Marik spun around, searching for the source of the voice. He heard it again, from a distance away. "Is that Yugi?" Marik asked. He felt a growing hatred in the bottom of his heart, and knew exactly why.

The Pharaoh was approaching.

Bakura grabbed the Egyptian's shoulder and yanked him back, further down the alley. "Idiot, if they see you then our plan is ruined," Bakura growled.

Another boy, presumably Joey, called out, "You can't hide forever!"

Marik was confused. _Why are they openly searching for Bakura if they know he's not Ryou? _

Suddenly, Joey appeared at the end of the alley, the way they were heading. Bakura halted, forcing Marik to hide behind him. Joey motioned, and two others appeared. Yugi and Tea.

Under his breath, Bakura murmured, "Run, before they see you. I'll handle this."Bakura gave Marik a little shove, but the Egyptian didn't move after that.

"But, what about you?"

Bakura turned his head ever so slightly and flashed his auburn eyes at Marik. Giving a playful grin, he replied, "What about me?"

The trio were approaching, and soon Marik would be revealed. Hesitating, the tomb keeper gave Bakura a long look before disappearing down the alley, away from everybody else.

Marik hopped on his motorcycle, still parked where he had left it last, and began his descent back to the Domino Pier. Guilt hung heavy in his heart, and Marik found it difficult to concentrate. _Even if it was another side of me doing it, I still tortured, and now abandoned, Bakura, _Marik thought. He automatically recollected the time he had been talking to Binky, his pet rat, about how Bakura was not merciful to anyone. _He will never forgive me. _

Marik wanted to get as far as way as possible. To put a safe distance between him and anyone. The tomb keeper's darker side would only prove impossibilities.

Once again, Bakura's words from earlier that night echoed in his head. _Are you afraid of yourself? _They repeated until Marik nearly swerve off the street, lost in deep thought.

_Am I afraid of myself? _Marik wondered. His heart ached with every breath, his cheekbone still stinging from Bakura's blow. He hadn't even hit the Egyptian that hard, which only made Marik feel worse. "Can I do nothing right?" He asked the silent street.

Arriving at the docks, Marik parked his motorcycle and slid off. The tomb keeper stole a glance behind him, saw that nobody was there, and made his way to the end of the closest dock. He had been standing on that very dock just earlier, though it wasn't truly him.

_Are you afraid of yourself? _

Marik gazed down into the water, rocking gently against the dock.

_Are you afraid of yourself? _

Kneeling down, he reached into the water, finding it colder than expected.

_Are you afraid of yourself?_

He strained down lower, attempting to pick up one of the rocks at the bottom.

_Are you afraid of yourself?_

The water was too deep to see past the surface.

_Are you afraid of yourself?_

A strong gust of wind blew, startling Marik and tipping him off balance.

_Are you afraid of yourself? _

Marik lost his footing and the vast water converged with him, its icy fingers reaching out.

_Are you afraid of yourself? _

Marik didn't know the answer.

_Are  
you  
afraid  
of  
yourself?_


	9. Chapter 9

"Well, well. If it isn't my dear friends, Yugi, Joey, and Tea," Bakura mused. "What brings you here tonight?"

Joey stepped forward, his fist raised in a threat. "We should be asking you that, Bakura."

The pale boy laughed. Raising his hands in a clueless and innocent gesture, he replied, "I was dealing with some matters. However, I'll give a warning; you three should mind your own business."

Joey opened his mouth to argue, but Yugi interrupted with a little gasp. A moment later, Tea noticed it, too. Bakura glanced to his side, curious of what they were so astonished from. Tea gave an uncertain point to the albino himself. Gazing down, he saw that his wound was heavily bleeding again. His shirt and hands were already splattered with the deep scarlet of his host. Bakura snickered, unfazed by the persistent pain. However, he was more angered than amused. Marik's possessor had damaged Ryou, the Ring's host, and that alone was unforgivable.

Pressing his fingers against the splotch of blood soaking his shirt, he lifted his hand to his mouth and licked his fingertips. He allowed himself a lupine grin at the others' reactions.

"Listen, creep. We want to know who you attacked on that dock," Joey demanded.

Bakura crossed his arms and gazed lazily up at the stars. "Oh, him? He was a comrade of mine, nothing more. I'm sure he's dead by now, anyways. No worries," Bakura responded listlessly.

Joey gave a low growl of irritation. Tea gently rested a hand on his shoulder, and he backed off.

Yugi spoke next, "But there was no body when we left! How do you explain that?"

Bakura made no hesitation. "You guys really are a bunch of morons. Obviously I wouldn't leave a body behind in a public location. I found the sea very suitable for the guy, so I'm positive he's content there."

Yugi and Tea shuddered. Joey appeared irritated. "Listen, pal. I don't know who you think you are, but you can't just toss your comrades into the ocean," Joey growled. "Or anybody, for that matter."

Bakura tilted his head and smirked. Flashing his eyes and Yugi, he replied deviously, "It seems your friend would know a lot about tossing people into the sea." Joey and Tea glanced at Yugi, puzzled. When nobody spoke, the Ring's spirit decided to drop the topic and say, "Now, move. I have some unfinished business." The pale boy could have just fled in the opposite direction, but he felt the urge to test Yugi and his friends. To show them who was stronger.

They didn't move.

"What terrible manners you have. Here is the body of your friend, bleeding and pained, and yet you refuse to even so much as to get out of my way," Bakura went on, "Well, it seems I must do this the difficult way, then."

Allowing Ryou to take over, Bakura pried his host's consciousness so he could retain control immediately after his act. From the same perspective, Bakura felt Ryou collapse to the ground. The other three being gullible morons, they scurried over to assist Ryou, concerned. Yugi seemed suspicious; however, he kept to himself as he stopped in front of the pale boy.

"Is this a trick?" Tea asked.

They watched Ryou shake, weak and agonized. Hiding in his host made Bakura realize how tired he was, but he forced himself to stay alert.

Joey grabbed Ryou's shoulder and hulled him to his feet, though the boy swayed a bit. "Bakura, can you hear me?" Joey questioned.

Yugi stepped forward and gently added, "Are you okay?"

His eyes slowly opening, Ryou gazed out at the three blurry figures. Before his mind could even register them as his friends, Bakura abruptly took over and demanded control over the body.

He felt Joey tense under his hold, likely aware of the shift. "Bakura...?"

The Millennium Ring's spirit was fast— grasping his fingers around Joey's wrist, he tore off the boy's hold and used the momentum to shove him back a few steps. Knowing that he was losing valuable time, Bakura clutched the Millennium Ring in his hand, holding it out and concentrating on Marik. _Find Marik, _he urged. _Find the Millennium Rod_.

One of the needles suddenly flashed, and continued to radiate a faint glow. It directed him straight ahead. Shoving past Yugi and his company, he sprinted down the alley and followed the Ring's navigation.

Behind him, he heard Tea scold Joey, muttering something along the lines of "Forget him."

At least they were finally giving him a break.

The pale boy didn't stop, only hearing his heart thrumming in his ears and his sneakers bluntly tapping against the asphalt street. Bakura worried that Marik was in danger, again. If his dark side awoke, anything and everything could go wrong. The Ring's spirit had already completely forgotten why he was so intent on saving the stranger. After all, realistically, the only valuable thing the tomb keeper had was the Millennium Rod, and Bakura could have easily stolen it earlier, when he had it in his own grasp.

Bakura had the suspicion that there was more to it— as the Egyptian had subtly pointed it out before— however, he didn't want to intrude any more than he already had on Marik's secrets. Because of his slight interrogation earlier that night, Marik had become angered by Bakura's brass assumptions, allowing his alter ego to consume him. Or at least that was what Bakura believed.

Rushing through the Pier's gates, the pale boy frantically searched for the Egyptian. Spotting him on one of the docks, Bakura exhaled a sigh of relief. The albino approached the boy with his back turned, his hand in the water. Suddenly, Marik lost his footing and toppled off balance, over the edge of the dock. Bakura pushed himself on his last step, abruptly forcing his run into a swift footfall. His sneakers scuffed on the ground beneath him as he reached out.

The stars above them suddenly felt limitless, along with time.


	10. Chapter 10

The tomb keeper felt arms wrap around his waist, and stumbled backwards, back onto the dock. His breath escaped in one gasp, a wave of vertigo sweeping throughout Marik. Collapsing into the suspect's arms, both of the boys went down. Marik's Millennium Rod nearly slipped out of his hand. The fingers linked at Marik's midriff separated, but instead of letting go the pale arms crossed so that the Egyptian's already lost breath was being squeezed out of him. Marik smiled, knowing who was embracing him.

"Stupid, I hope you weren't planning on drowning yourself," Bakura whispered in the Egyptian's ear.

Marik closed his eyes for a moment before opening them. "I-I can't really breathe, Bakura," Marik choked out. Hearing a little embarrassed laugh behind him, the tomb keeper felt the arms slacken around him before entirely letting go. Hesitantly, Marik attempted to get to his feet, but he barely made his way out of Bakura's lap before albino fingers grabbed his wrist. The Egyptian stared unsurely back into Bakura's eyes. Something flashed amidst them, but the pale boy hastily glanced away, averting his eyes. The fingers around Marik's wrist slid down to his hand. Bakura linked their fingers together while Marik's heart skipped a beat.

"Sit down," Bakura commanded.

Marik obeyed, and the two boys sat on the edge of the dock, their feet dangling close to, but not touching, the water. Marik used both hands to grip the edge of the dock, nervous. "I'm sorry," Marik murmured. In a louder voice, the tomb keeper added, "For everything."

A silence passed over them before Bakura replied, his voice like a whip, "It wasn't your fault, Marik."

The Egyptian whipped his face towards the pale boy. "I'm too weak to fend off darkness! It's _my_ fault you got hurt!" Unexpectedly, Bakura held Marik's stare, not averting his eyes. The tomb keeper's throat began to ache with unshed tears. Feeling humiliated and small, Marik looked away. "I'm afraid of him, Bakura."Another long moment fell upon them, a deafening silence.

_Are you afraid of yourself?_

Marik shifted his gaze onto the Millennium Rod, staring deep down into golden eye. Looking back up at Bakura, the tomb keeper raised the sceptre, though instead of using it to manipulate his mind, Marik held it out to the boy. Bakura stared at it with an unreadable expression. "Take it," Marik said. "I have only proven a corrupt fealty with it in my possession."

Bakura stared at it for a moment longer before lifting his mahogany eyes to meet Marik's. A smirk threatened at the corner of Bakura's mouth as he gently pushed the sceptre away from him. "Keep it, Marik."

A new anger blossomed in the pit of the tomb keeper. "Take it! It's what you want, isn't it? The Millennium Items? Take mine and loathe me, I don't care! I probably won't even be me anymore in time! Darkness will eventually bury m—!"

"Shut up."

Marik was taken aback. "Wha—?"

"Shut up," Bakura repeated. Marik pursed his lips stubbornly, waiting. "If you believe you are weak, then you shall be weak. It's a simple matter. I'm not saying you're worthless, however, your dark half knows exactly where you are sensitive. On the surface, you may appear intimidating, but on the inside you are a lonely child, pleading desperately," Bakura said. "He knows how to escape and usurp your own consciousness and body. Now, what are you going to do about it?"

Marik hated that Bakura was right. That the spirit knew more about him than he did himself. Marik also hated that he did not have any answers. He continued to stare into the depthless water below, hating it, too.

"Marik?"

Marik blinked, afraid that Bakura had said something to him and he had missed it. A dull ache lingered in his skull. "What is it, Bakura?"

The pale boy exhaled in relief, and replied, "Nothing."

Marik, being curious, demanded, "Tell me."

Bakura sighed. "I thought you were shifting into your alter darkness, but it seems it was only my imagination."

Marik pressed two fingers against his aching temple, wondering if Bakura was wrong. By the way, Bakura," Marik began. The pale boy glanced over and listened, alert. "I've been wondering, why did you search for my journal, anyways?"

Bakura smirked. "That old piece of dust? It was out in the open, and I was bored. End of story."

Marik frowned and muttered, "I'm burning it later, I swear on the Gods."

Bakura gave a tiny snort. Marik lightly wacked him on his arm with the Millennium Rod, causing him to wince. The tomb keeper remembered Bakura's wounds, then, and quickly apologized. A few tantalizingly slow moments passed, an eerie silence resting upon the night.

Marik followed Bakura's gaze up to sky, where billions of stars lay scattered about. The Egyptian's tongue still stung, though he struggled to remember why. Stealing a glance at Bakura's face before looking back up at the sky, Marik recollected everything.

"H-hey, Bakura? When..." Marik stammered, trailing off. Bakura stared at the Egyptian, attentive. The tomb keeper had no choice but to continue. "You— I... We sort of..." Marik had no way of continuing his sentence, sitting awkwardly, blushing. "... Never mind."A gust of wind whipped across the Domino Pier, sending a shiver up Marik's spine. Bakura remained mute. _What am I doing...? _"I should go," Marik said, quietly.

Getting to his feet, Marik made his way opposite from Bakura. _I am such a fool. _Marik felt his heart flood, a sullen ache, as he thought about leaving. Where would he go? Back to Egypt? _I'm abandoning everything here, _Marik thought. _There won't even be a goodbye, either. _

All of a sudden something flashed by Marik out of his line of vision, and he was forced to abruptly halt. Without even enough time to blink, he felt lips on his own, gently kissing him. The taste filled his mouth, a sweet elixir, warming the tomb keeper's heart and soul. Heat rushed to Marik's face as he fully understood what was happening, but the next hesitation between them was a silent consent. Marik was just as astonished and disoriented as Bakura; however, he immediately found the answer, buried deep in the core of his heart.

The tomb keeper suddenly didn't feel so lost or lonesome anymore.

Marik knew where he belonged then, and nearly laughed at his previous thought of there being no goodbye. Indeed, there wouldn't be a goodbye. It was only the beginning.

Leaning in, Marik shortened the distance between the two and kissed Bakura. In spite of coming to terms that that the previous events were real, and not just a dream or delusion, he was willing to leave them behind him for just that little while.

_Perhaps, _Marik thought to himself, _if Bakura stands with me... Perhaps I'll be alright._

As the moon's iridescence poured down on the city, Marik realized, with a smile, that maybe the stars were not as far away as he had thought.


	11. Epilogue

"Bakura, what are you reading?"

The pale boy glanced up from the old bounded pages, meeting the eyes of the Egyptian. "One of your old scriptures," Bakura replied.

Marik raised an eyebrow, curiosity sprawled on his features. "I wasn't aware you could read Arabic," he muttered, teasing.

Bakura bit back a smile, averting his eyes back to the foreign text below. It was all just a bunch of symbols scrawled on the page to him, however, he knew better than to question Marik's child spoken language. Bakura briefly wondered what the writing actually said.

Sighing, the pale boy rested the book on the floor and said what he'd been meaning to say all that day. "Say, Marik, last night... You were about to say something before— I – ah..." Bakura quickly looked away from Marik's penetrating stare. The tomb keeper must have realized where their conversation was headed and shifted nervously against his perch on the wall. Bakura was sitting cross-legged on the cold, warehouse floor.

"Yes, I guess I was about to ask something, then. But... it doesn't matter now," Marik said, slightly shaking his head.

Bakura lifted his gaze onto the glowing features of the Egyptian boy, illuminated in a copper- honey hue of sunset, streaming from the opposite windows of the warehouse. Bakura must have looked stone-frigid on the floor, no warm colors emitting from him. "No, really, I want to know," Bakura insisted.

Marik crossed his arms and continued to stare at nothing in particular. "It's stupid."

Bakura nearly rolled his eyes, but instead said quietly, "Tell me."

Marik jumped at the gentleness in the spirit's tone, clearly fearing that it was Ryou speaking in the spirit's stead. Bakura felt a persistent desire to either move closer to the tomb keeper or run away as far as he could. Bakura remained still, though it took some effort. "You will laugh," Marik went on, stubborn as usual.

Glad that Marik couldn't directly see him, Bakura's eyes widened slightly when he saw that the tomb keeper's face was flushed. Swallowing his impatience, Bakura responded, "I promise I won't, Marik."

The tomb keeper turned, then, and stared at Bakura, sending a shiver up the pale boy's spine. Marik seemed hesitant, his shadow flickering on the walls in the twilight, as he bit his lip nervously. "Last night, when I was under his manipulation... He did horrible things to you, didn't he?" Marik paused before correcting, "I did horrible things to you, didn't I?"

Before he even knew it, Bakura was on his feet and standing opposite from Marik, his hands clenched at his sides. "You didn't do anything," Bakura growled. "Don't put yourself at fault. I was the one who meddled with you and provoked y—,"

"He kissed you."

Bakura drew back, unsure of what to say, other than a quiet, "Oh."

Marik's lilac eyes wandered to the corner of the room again, refusing to look at Bakura. "I— we kissed..."Bakura's mind was a baffled void as his thoughts processed the tomb keeper's words. "And... And—well, he hurt you. Because of me, you had to endure such a painful memory."

Bakura thought of Marik's journal, where he had written about the tomb keeper's ritual and the scarring, both mentally and physically, Marik had gained. "It wasn't all that painful." The tomb keeper met Bakura's eyes, frowning. Before he could say anything, Bakura added, "Besides, I believe you've dealt with worse situations before."

Marik appeared uncomfortable, but replied with, "Bakura, what I've been meaning to ask you..."

Bakura waited for the Egyptian to continue, but he did not. Instead, seeming to change his mind, he reached behind him and slipped out the Millennium Rod from his belt, holding it in front of him

For a moment, Bakura thought the boy was offering it to him again, and felt a wave of anger, but the feeling that passed throughout him was not anger, it was manipulation. Bakura felt his limbs turn to tingling ice, frozen in place. _Marik, you—! _Bakura tried to say, but found his could not speak. Marik stared at the Millennium Rod, his face unreadable. Suddenly, Bakura felt his hands rise to remove the Millennium Ring from its lace around his neck and drop it on the ground. Bakura clenched his teeth, hating being controlled.

"I'm sorry, Bakura. But you must understand that this is an eye for an eye, and I know you'll hate me for doing this..."

By the time Bakura realized what Marik was doing, it was too late.

Slashing the sceptre's blade across his own arm, Marik grimaced at the infliction as blood trailed down his arm and dripped off his fingertips onto the floor.

Bakura couldn't handle much more, he realized, as his mind flickered and wavered. Without the Millennium Ring, Bakura held no physical presence, and Marik was forcing him to the edge. Biting down hard on his lip, Bakura fought for dominance as the bleeding Marik blurred and his vision danced in a frantic frenzy. The tomb keeper shakily grasped the sceptre, wincing. For a split second, Marik's manipulation dulled and Bakura struggled for the opportunity to escape the Egyptian's mental grasp. Breaking the hold, Bakura swept his hand across Marik's, sending the Millennium Rod spinning across the floor. The pale boy felt himself grow limp and weary as his consciousness blinked and faded.

Suddenly, he felt something slip around his neck and he was brought to the surface, once again. Raising his gaze off the floor, he stared directly into the lowered eyes of Marik. Bakura was on his knees whilst Marik kneeled, hastily retrieving his hands back. Marik had given Bakura back the Millennium Ring, though he himself knew he did not deserve it.

Instantly, Bakura reached out and grabbed Marik's wrist, inspecting the sceptre's infliction. "Fool," Bakura muttered. There was nothing to dress it with, so Bakura applied steady pressure to the wound, hoping the blood flow would eventually quit. "Over reactive fool," Bakura added. Marik tried to pull his arm back, but Bakura gripped the Egyptian's wrist tighter, the two giving each other an icy stare. "Stay still," Bakura commanded.

Marik's violet eyes grew with anger, his presence shifting to an arcane darkness.

Bakura laughed, suddenly, and said, "I thought you were stronger than this, Marik." The tomb keeper scowled, caught in between his two halves. "Already you're giving in to that nuisance of a persona," Bakura went on, "I almost feel sorry for you."

Marik blinked, the familiarity returning to him. He frowned, confused. Then, suddenly, he wrapped his arms around Bakura's waist, causing the pale boy to jump. Hesitantly, Bakura embraced the boy back, breathing in the comforting scent and glad that Marik was not crying.

Marik spoke, below him, "Bakura, I'm going to ask you that question now." The Millennium Ring's spirit waited for Marik to continue. "When my other half kissed you... Did you like it?"

When Bakura didn't answer, Marik drew away and stared, silently, though with a hint of confusion in his eyes.

"I—." Bakura paused, unsure of how to answer such a bold question.

Recollecting the horrifying memory, he wasn't sure if he liked it or disliked it. Especially since it wasn't actually Marik himself at the time.

Meeting the lavender eyes of the tomb keeper, Bakura eventually found the answer and spoke it truthfully, though he had to pause to find the accurate words. "At first, it confounded me... Then I was afraid. Mostly afraid for you, Marik, but also selfishly afraid for myself. Unfortunately, though, I can't say I hated all of it. I wasn't even sure at the time... But at the same time, I didn't know who I was facing. It wasn't you, no; it was somebody else in your body." Bakura hesitated before concluding, "Though I can't quite understand it myself, I liked the idea of it, Marik, regardless of it being overwhelming."

Marik sat in silence for a few moments before whispering, "What of now?"

Slightly tilting his head forward, the pale boy gave a tiny lopsided smile. "Now I know who I am facing," Bakura said.

Marik's eyes intensified as he snapped back, "Do you?"

Bakura met the Egyptian's steady glare with his own. "Do _you_?" Bakura countered with a smug twitch of his mouth.

Marik opened his mouth to argue, but then surrendered with a sigh. "You're Bakura," was all the Egyptian concluded.

Bakura softly replied, "Yes, but will I always be Bakura?"

Marik's eyes flickered to the Millennium Ring, resting in its place against the blue-and-white fabric of Bakura's shirt. The tomb keeper remained silent.

"I can't always be here for you, Marik. You need to learn to control the darkness brewing inside of you," Bakura said. Marik's gaze did not lift from the floor. "You can't let him get in the way of your life, especially at such crucial times." Bakura paused, irritation growing inside him.

Marik must have sensed it, as he met Bakura's eyes with his own, his expression unreadable. "Don't speak of me as if I am completely futile, Bakura. As long as I keep my destination in mind, I can overcome him," Marik responded harshly, his tone an icy whiplash.

Bakura resisted a smirk as he inquired, "Oh? And what is this destination of yours?"

Marik's lavender eyes grew cold with hatred as he replied, "Destroying the Pharaoh, of course." Bakura laughed, causing Marik to startle with anger and confusion. "What's the joke?" The tomb keeper demanded.

"How can you reach the Pharaoh if you can't even fend off yourself?" Bakura replied, a hint of black humor lingering in his eyes.

Marik scowled and responded, "The Millennium Rod has greatly assisted me to now, I'm positive it can aid me another short while."

Bakura casted a glance at Marik's wound as well as his own, a dark smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I'm sure it has," Bakura uttered.

Marik opened his mouth to protest, but instead gave in with a sigh. "You were right, Bakura. All along you were right—I am nothing but an over reactive fool whose greatest fear lies within myself. Fate chose me to play the part of three different roles—Marik, Namu and some dark creature who corrupts my very being." Marik paused, contemplating his previous statement. "Perhaps fate wasn't involved in any of this. What if all this is by my own decisions? Yes—yes. It's true, Bakura. My own acts have brought _me_ _down on my knees_, _begging the Gods for mercy while the true darkness seeps out and_—"

Abruptly, Bakura grabbed a fistful of Marik's collar and harshly yanked the tomb keeper towards him. Marik blinked dizzily, the echo of his face dissipating. Their faces parted only by their breath, Bakura said, "Marik?"

The Egyptian responded, "Yes?"

"You are absolutely crazy."

Despite the threatened heartbeat Bakura heard below him, Marik smiled. The argument ended there without further ado, regardless of Marik going back on his own word. Bakura smiled back, the rare occurrence of such causing his heart to involuntarily beat faster. Marik, directly parallel to the pale boy, seemed exhausted, though he clearly struggled to stay alert.

"Hey, Bakura?"

"Yes?"

"You can let go of me now."

Bakura bit back a laugh, his lips contorting into an awkward smile of embarrassment. Dropping his hand from its grasp on Marik's collar, Bakura felt violet eyes penetrating his very spirit. The pale boy waited for Marik to speak, inwardly struggling against his thinning patience.

"Um... Bakura... could you stay with me tonight? I mean, so _he_ doesn't awaken. If he does, I just want somebody to be here..." Marik trailed off, a faint blush spreading across his face.

Bakura smirked at the boy's prudence. "Okay, but just for tonight," Bakura agreed.

A grateful smile broadened the corners of the tomb keeper's mouth. "Thank you, Bakura."

The Ring's spirit felt heat rise to his pale cheeks, the compliment new to him. Hastily turning his face away, the pale boy rose to his feet and held out his hand after the heat from his face abated. Marik grasped the offered hand and Bakura brought him to his own eyelevel, a silence shrouding the room like a fog.

A thousand words hung unspoken, dense amid the boys' shadows looming against the ground and crawling on the walls.

"Marik?"

Thousands of words, thousands of years—millennia of pent-up confinement and eras of solitude.

"What is it, Bakura?"

Past the intangible chains and shackles that hung heavy in his spirit, Bakura could almost feel the kemp of fate's bloodred thread that severed through his selfish being and stretched to the tomb keeper opposite from him. It also occurred to the pale boy, and possibly the Egyptian, that there was someone hovering over the thread, laughing with a blade in hand.

With the luxury of being elated, if only for a moment, Bakura smiled and said, "Thank you."


End file.
